


see where all the follies led

by haipollai



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Captain Marvel (Marvel), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Airships, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Captain and his crew, F/F, F/M, Freedom in the skies, M/M, Past Abuse, Slavery, Tattoos, Tattoos marking ownership, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York's top alchemist has a deal for the small ragtag crew of the Nomad, get him silver and save a runaway slave from torture and death.</p><p>Except silver is as dangerous and illegal to carry as runaway slaves and even harder to find.</p><p>Their best opportunity is in Bucky and Rikki's pasts from before they ran away from Tony Stark's ownership. The Stark corporation is the most powerful on the West Coast, working as both company and government but if they're going to get what they need to pay off McCoy, Stark is the place to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see where all the follies led

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to beardsley for betaing, and lins and renne for providing moral support <3  
> Title is from an Abney Park song.
> 
> Art by the amazing giallodih over [here](http://giallodih.deviantart.com/art/Marvel-Bang-408903138)

She stares up at the skies, watching the grey clouds on the horizon slowly move closer. Like great beasts of the sea, bearing down on the city. The dull buildings, once rich in color and now coated in grime and soot, reach up to meet the clouds. Like fingers clawing at the sky, hoping to tear it all down. She sighs softly and adjusts her shawl over her face as an auto-gyro roars past, kicking up dirt. The thick cloth makes it hard to breathe but at least the air entering her lungs feels a little cleaner. She hates New York, worse than the Continent’s cities. Nothing but people all screaming and clawing at each other, each begging for a little bit of room in a place that doesn't have enough. And nothing but grey: grey skies, grey buildings, grey sea. Thick and oppressive.

Carol Danvers sighs and pulls the hood tighter over her head. At least in a city like this, a city with people simply boxed and stacked on top of each other, it's easy to disappear. No one tries to look under the hood. Everyone is hiding something.

She's finally at her destination and ducks into the small shop. It looks like an alchemy shop, specializing in all kinds of strange potions. Alchemy had never held much interest for her. She was a soldier, a long time ago, and her life is still a struggle for survival. But the owner has another business, smuggling. The captain of the good ship Nomad did a lot of business with him, and this time the man claimed to have something special for them. For a special price.

"McCoy?" she says loudly, knowing he could be down in the basement where the less legal aspects of his business are stored. Though she doubts it matters much, there is too much city for the police to keep much of an eye on and it's easy enough to convince them to look elsewhere.

"Down here, my good lady!" His voice echoes up from the basement, just as she expected. "Please join me!"

She sighs and checks both her gun and knives. McCoy has always been good and reliable in the past, never one to pull anything, but it never hurt to be careful. One did not survive as a soldier by being reckless. With one blade carefully tucked in her palm, she makes her way down the stairs, letting her good fall back so it wouldn't limit her vision. Boxes teetered precariously around the edges of the room, with some shelves sticking out towards the center. It was all labeled in a strange code that only McCoy himself could understand. But Carol doesn't look at it for more than a second, her eyes go immediately to the table in the center of the room. She's seen it before, usually cluttered with glass vials and clockwork, but now it's all been cleared aside. McCoy sits at the table with someone else, a young woman. Even in the layers she's wrapped in, Carol can tell she's small but her age is impossible to determine. Her hair has been cut short, leaving it ragged and unkempt. She doesn't even look up at Carol, just stays focused on the bowl McCoy has given her.

"McCoy," Carol hisses to get his attention.

McCoy is a big man and deformed, unable to stand completely straight, but he unfolds himself from the chair nimbly. "Ah good, there you are my dear, come in. Meet my new friend." He gestures for Carol to come over to the table and take his abandoned seat. "Anya? This is Carol. Carol, meet Anya. I believe you can discern where she is from." So close, there's no missing it. The lines of ink crawl up Anya's neck but stop at her jaw line. The spiderweb design makes her look almost regal, like an elegant choker worn by the elite. But it means the exact opposite.

"You're from the Pits?" Carol asks, trying to be gentle. Anya nods her head but doesn't say anything, focusing on the food she has. Carol twists to look at McCoy. "What is going on?"

"She was…recovered by some noble do gooder. Who did not cover his own back very well and through a very complex path, she has ended up here with no papers and nowhere else to go." One large hand makes a wide sweep to indicate the entire shop. "I hope you can see that this is no place for a child of the Slave Pits to be educated about society."

Carol takes a deep breath to make sure she's thinking and not reacting. That's why the Captain's sent her, because she supposedly knows how to keep a cool head. Sometimes she's not sure how he came to that conclusion, but it's too late to head back to the Nomad and demand someone else handle this. "Lay it out, McCoy. What do you want?"

"Besides a better life for this _poor_ girl?" He holds a hand to his chest as if she's hurt him. Carol doesn't even bother with an answer and stares at him until he shrugs and the fake hurt disappears. "I am truly in no capacity to care for a child. You can do what you like with her, if you know of some place better then fine. But I know your captain, I know he would want to do the right thing for her."

"I don't see what is in this for you."

McCoy grins and leans in close to whisper to her. Her grip tightens on her blade just in case. "I need two ounces of pure silver and that is more than even I can pay. So my deal is simple, agree to bring me my silver, and you won't watch that child die from the poison in her soup."

Carol watches the girl continue to eat, ignorant to their conversation. Or maybe too hungry to even care if this meal is her last. Carol has seen other escapees from the Pit. She lives with two and even years later there are habits they can’t shake. This girl will be the same way if she lives. Assuming Carol is able to give her the chance. "Deal."

"You know, if you renege on our accord, you will lose many friends in this fair city."

"I know." McCoy's business has made him a lot of friends. She doesn't mention he is nothing but a middleman, many would not mind his own death. They both know that and that the void left behind would cause chaos for a period. "And how can I be sure you will be good on your end?"

"She will be alive. I know you have your own practitioner of the medical field on board, and I'm sure you'll run all the tests you want to your hearts delight. There is no poison that is invisible while in the system. At least not yet." He pulls out a small vial and holds it out in his palm. Carol takes a minute to think. Acquiring two ounces of pure silver is close to impossible. Silver trade is entirely a government business. Everything from mining to the final sale was in their hands. No middlemen, no outsiders. The only things that filtered into the open market were scraps, impure and useless except as pretty trinkets. The deal is madness.

But on the other hand there is this girl. Completely innocent, her life once planned out from the day she was born but somehow she ended up here despite all those plans and controls.

"Give it to her,” Carol orders stiffly.

Anya finally looks up. Her eyes are huge in her emaciated face. "Do you own me now, lady?" She doesn't flinch as McCoy pours the concoction into Anya's bowl and stirs it in.

"No, but you'll be leaving with me." She watches Anya fidget with her spoon for a few seconds. "Eat up. I don't trust McCoy, but I know someone who will make sure you're okay."

"Your words of kindness are overwhelming, Ms. Danvers," McCoy says dryly.

She doesn't even spare him a glance, remaining focused on Anya. "Please," she whispers.

"It tastes weird now."

"That's unavoidable, child, it's from the centaury plant. Unfortunately bitter," McCoy explains. He seems impatient now for them to get out, but he keeps it to himself. Anya nods, accepting his explanation, and finishes the rest of the soup, making a face when she sets down the empty bowl. Carol nods, just as relieved to finally be going as McCoy is to see them leave.

"Come," she says softly, helping Anya to her feet. She carefully adjusts Anya’s scarves and cloak so the tattoos on her neck are completely covered. It wouldn’t do any good to get caught with a runaway on the streets after managing to escape McCoy’s clutches. Carol nudges her up the stairs first and keeps one eye turned to McCoy the entire time. It isn't like him to stab anyone in the back, but trading people for goods is not usually how they work either. "Take my hand, Anya," Carol says when they're back on the street, pulling her hood back up to hide her face. Anya looks confused, but holds on tightly and follows Carol all the way back to the ports.

The ports exist separately from the city proper, hanging over the very tip of Manhattan Island, behind a large fence. Long ago the City tried to control the other side of the fence, but as it grew and became bigger the police slowly disappeared. It’s better this way, for everyone. Now they only control who goes in or out. Carol shows them her papers with the name Karla Sofen written across the top. There is no warrant out for a Karla Sofen, so they give her no trouble. But Anya gets a suspicious look when she just stands and clings to Carol.

It's not hard to pretend to be aggravated with the guards. Carol sighs and yanks the fabric away from Anya's neck just enough that the guards can see the lines of ink. "She's mine," she snaps. The guards suspicious looks turn into leers and wave them through. It's all Carol can do not to punch them, but she focuses instead on Anya, keeping her close as they enter the port.

Carol likes the port much better than the city. Airships of all shapes and colors plot out the grey sky. Carol smiles without realizing it. Even with her feet still on the ground she feels more alive here than in the city proper. Anya grips her hand tighter. The port buzzes with soul that the city lacks. People laughing and shouting, trying to sell wares, move cargo. Living their lives how they want to. People from everywhere gather for a short while before moving on again to be replaced by new faces. Carol pushes her hood back, finally no longer having to hide. Even if someone did recognize her, there was nothing they could do. Anya is quiet, Carol has to glance back occasionally just to make sure she's there and didn't become lost in the shuffle. This would be the perfect place to disappear, Carol knows that only too well. But Anya is there each time, head tilted back, trying to see everything.

Carol tugs lightly on Anya's hand when they approach the Nomad. She's not much to look at. The Captain keeps her painted bright blue with a bold red stripe on each side. Solid and small, but put together well. "Here she is."

"I…I'm going to live here? With you?"

"If you want." Carol pauses and actually looks at Anya. Everything had happened so fast, there'd been no stopping to actually talk to the girl. "Do you want?"

Anya blinks, looking truly confused, and Carol realizes too late that no one has ever asked her that question. The people from the Pits are slaves, worse than cattle. They have no say over their lives, which are usually short and painful. Carol's heard stories of infants taken from mothers, children raised in barracks if they haven't already been bought and sold. Breeding programs to pick out the best for work. "I don't…"

"We'll talk to the Captain. See if there's room for you. Then you can decide later." Carol smiles and makes a mental note to introduce her to James and Rikki as soon as possible. "Come on."

—

Steve presses his lips to Bucky's shoulder. When the ship is powered down, the feel of another body is the closest replacement. Steve has spent so long on airships now that the feeling of nothing but his heartbeat in his chest is unnerving. He prefers the feeling of both Bucky and his ship, echoing his heart and echoing each other. But he will take only one over neither.

It's early evening, sun glints through the two slits placed high up and paned with thick glass. Carol will be back shortly, but Steve focuses just on the feel of Bucky against him.

"I was trying to get some work done," Bucky says, despite leaning back into Steve.

"Don't care."

Bucky huffs and Steve can feel the tension in his shoulders, but doesn't say anything. Old habits. Steve has to plead with Bucky to get him to open up, sometimes he wonders if it's worth it, but then Bucky smiles. Or like now, he catches Steve off guard, twisting around in his arms, his metal, clockwork arm curls around Steve's neck and the real one touches his cheek. "Steve," he murmurs, close enough Steve can feel the puff of air with each syllable. "Steve, my captain. If you want this boat to run, let me work."

Steve grins and leans in to kiss him, keeping it gentle and chaste until Bucky sighs and kisses back. "She's not a boat," he murmurs against his lips. "She's the best ship in the air you'll ever find."

"You are delusional," Bucky laughs.

Steve slips his fingers under the rough fabric of Bucky's shirt. He feels the deep breath Bucky takes to make himself relax and Steve doesn't even know what thoughts are running through his head but he doesn't push Steve away. He's done it before, he knows he can do it if he needs. Even if sometimes he forgets. Steve will remind him until they're both old and grey and Bucky's bones can't carry the weight of his metal arm anymore. "No, just stubbornly optimistic."

Bucky rolls his eyes and twists back around to face his engines again. He was born in the Slave Pits, he tries to hide the tattoos over his body that mark him as owned and less than human. An engineer bought him young, because he needed someone to fit into tiny crawl spaces. It's where he lost his arm, but his owner was _gracious_ enough to use him for experiments in prosthetics. It still causes him pain sometimes, it will always cause him pain. No matter how good the engineer was the human body is flesh and bone, not gears and wires. Bucky works with their own medic now, trying to combine their knowledge to make the fit of the arm better to lessen his pain. When that fails, Bucky can at least get something to dull the pain.

Despite the loss of his arm, Bucky still throws himself into working with the engines. Still uses everything that man taught him to help Steve. Steve rests his chin on his good shoulder and watches him check the connections on the pipes. Careful and thorough. This is Bucky's home, maybe even more that it's home to Steve, and his care shows it. "Well, your airship was at least put together well, we won't need the welds I was worried we might. Even if all the moving parts are still cheaply made."

"Are you blaming me for my ship not running like you want?"

"Yes, as I have for the past five years."

Steve huffs a laugh against Bucky's neck. "And I'm sure you will continue to tell me until we die of old age."

"Hope so," Bucky whispers. "You are lucky _whoever_ did these last repairs was so good, otherwise we would be an ocean-going vessel."

Steve scrapes his teeth over Bucky's neck. A small noise escapes Bucky that reverberates through Steve. He closes his eyes to savor it. "I'll show you how grateful I am you're aboard," he murmurs, hooking his fingers in Bucky’s suspenders, determined to get him out of them.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Steve only reluctantly releases Bucky to see what is wanted from him. Rikki leans casually in the door frame. While Bucky covers the ink that marks him as a former slave, Rikki has her sleeves rolled up and the neckline of her jacket is open. To her, the ink over her skin is a mark of pride. She escaped. She's free.

"Yes, Rikki?"

"Carol is back. With a surprise." 

"Better go see to that, Captain. Carol does have the best surprises," Bucky teases.

"Are you all set here then?" Steve asks Bucky, ignoring Rikki for the moment.

Rikki rolls her eyes at them but bites back her comments. "I was set before you interrupted," Bucky says, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Get out, find out what Carol's new surprise is. And maybe send Rikki back when you can. I think some of the inner valves need to be tightened."

"Yes sir." Steve gives him a loose salute just to make Bucky grin, then turns to Rikki, who is already bouncing to lead him to Carol. "Do I get any clues?"

"Not for this one." Rikki pats his arm before darting up the ladder to take them up to the main living area. Steve sees Carol there and someone else, staring deeply at a glass of water. There's no one else and Steve hopes that means the rest of the crew doesn't know Carol is back with a guest. He prefers to deal with any surprises first.

"Carol?" Steve prompts.

They've known each other for years. When Steve first left the service, he'd gone to her and dragged her along on this crazy adventure. He still doesn't understand why she said yes sometimes, but he's grateful she did. He trusts her. So he knows she's not exaggerating when she smiles tightly and answers him matter of factly: "We have a problem."

Steve's eyes dart to the other person and back to Carol. "McCoy said he had a possible job for us."

"He does," Carol says carefully. "He wants us to get him two ounces of pure silver."

Steve sits down heavily. Two ounces of silver is impossible. "That's- Did you accept?" Carol can be reckless, but he asked her to meet with McCoy because she’s usually smart.

"I know, but he forced my hand." Carol lightly touches the other person's shoulder. "Meet Anya. Anya?" She crouches down to be at Anya's level. "Anya, this is the captain of the Nomad, his name is Steve." Anya looks up and the layers of shawls and fabric hide her skin but Steve's seen that look in people's eyes. In the eyes of two members of his crew. Carol looks back at Steve. "McCoy threatened to kill her if I didn't say yes."

Steve manages a smile for Anya. "Then you made the right choice. We'll figure this out."

Rikki scuffs her toes on the deck to get their attention. "Think she can fit in my clothes, Captain."

Steve nods gratefully at her. "Go, Rikki. Help her."

"Check in with Sam," Carol says softly, a hint of a plea in her voice.

Rikki moves to Anya's side and gently leads her out of the room. Anya shoots Carol a confused look, but lets Rikki lead her away. Carol sinks into Anya's abandoned chair and looks across at Steve. Steve sinks deeper into his own chair, giving her a wry smile. "So we have a new crew member," Steve finally says.

"I don't know- she's from the Pits. Even if he was bluffing…"

"It's okay."

Carol smiles tightly. "I know." She rubs tiredly at her eyes. Steve understands how she feels. It's a big burden taking any life into your own hands, even for someone as strong as Carol. The feeling of responsibility never goes away. He feels it for every person in his crew. "So how do we even start? Silver is…silver is impossible to get a hold of. Especially pure. And if we don't, he'll destroy our connections here in New York City."

Steve moves around the table to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. "If that's what happens, Jess can nudge a bit. Isn't that what I pay her for?"

"You pay her because she knows the skies better than any other damn navigator out there." She laughs dryly and rests her head comfortably on his shoulder. "She also keeps me happy, which I believe should be a priority for you."

He sighs dramatically. "Have to keep you happy. Have to keep Bucky happy. Hopefully Bucky manages to keep Rikki happy so I don't have to worry about her. Then there's Sam and Sharon and hopefully they keep each other happy."

"I am not envious of your position, Cap."

"You sure? You're always welcome to it."

-

Sam looks up when he hears the knock on the door, then looks back down at Sharon. "We could…" he murmurs, already leaning back down to press a kiss to her stomach.

She laughs and stretches lazily so her skin meets his lips quicker. "Oh yes, we could."

"Sam!" Rikki yells through the door and knocks again. "Please!"

Sam groans in disappointment and rests his forehead on Sharon's stomach. She curls her hand around the back of his head, lightly scratching at the shortest hairs at the nape of his neck. "She is something. We'll continue later?"

"By everything holy, we will," he grumbles.

She runs her hand soothingly down the line of his neck to the dip between his shoulders. Rikki is still relentlessly banging away at the door. Sam gives up on hoping she'll go away if he dawdles long enough and slides up Sharon's body to rest his head on her chest so the blanket can be tugged over them both. "Come in, Rikki!" Sharon yells. For a second it doesn't seem like the girl heard, but then the knocking stops and the hatch to their room opens just enough for Rikki to poke her head in.

"Are you decent?"

"Decent enough," Sam mumbles, not lifting his head.

"Sam, well, here's the thing." She opens the door wider and Sam pushes himself up on one arm to see better and Rikki nudges the other person forward. "This is Anya. She might be part of the crew now." Rikki slips her arm through one of Anya's and grins. "She needs a check up." Sam reluctantly props himself up on an arm to see the girl better. Anya shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking like she wants to hide behind Rikki. It's hard to see anything with the clothes she has on, but he can see in her cheeks that at the very least she's malnourished.

"How complete?" Sam asks.

Rikki hesitates but Anya shuffles forward to answer. "Blood work."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up. Blood work is costly and extensive, he's not even sure he has the right equipment on board. Most of his work as the crew's doctor involves stitching up bullet holes and setting broken bones. "Blood work?" he repeats.

"I was poisoned, sir-"

"Sam. Please call me Sam."

"Sa..m. And the lady, Ms. Danvers-" Sharon manages to bite back her snigger at Carol being referred to as Ms., but only just. "She said the doctor on board would test. Make sure the poison was all gone. That’s you, right sir-Sam?"

Sam smiles gently. He likes this girl already. There's something there, under the hesitance beaten into her from life in the Pits. "I am and I will. Now get out so I can get dressed." A grateful smile darts over her lips as Rikki drags her out, already talking about getting her changed, finding something more comfortable. Sharon curls an arm around his shoulders and kisses the skin behind his ear, drawing his attention back to her. He lets her pull him back down to bed for a soft, lazy kiss. It'd be so easy to slide back down her body, continue what they had started before they were interrupted, but there's a girl waiting for him. Reluctantly he pulls away, stealing one last kiss before getting out of bed.

She rolls onto her side to watch him get dressed. "Well, Rikki has a new friend."

"Have you heard anything about what's going on?"

"I've been with you for the last twenty four hours," she says, voice dripping with false patience. He ducks his head, seeing the point right away. He hears her get out of bed and her arms wrap around him. "I'll talk to Steve while you give her a check up, Dr. Sam."

He takes one of her hands in his and presses a kiss to her knuckles. "Good luck."

-

Rikki leads Anya to the engine room while they wait for Sam to figure out the results of all the tests. It's warm in there and Bucky has his gramophone playing, filling up the space with music. Usually the sound of the engines themselves drown out everything but with the engines powered down, the room has decent acoustics. He shoots them a smile when they step in but otherwise keeps to his work. Rikki leads Anya to a corner that has become the closest thing to a living space the big room has. Some blankets and pillows that Jess brought down years ago when she noticed the two Barnes’ had a habit of falling asleep down there.

"You were both slaves too," Anya whispers. It's not a question. Rikki doesn't hide her ink and Bucky is down to his shirt sleeves while he works.

Rikki shoves a piece of bread into her hands from a basket she'd stolen from the pantry earlier. "We were."

"But not now?" Anya carefully picks off the crust of the bread and chews, keeping her bites small and quick.

"No, not now. We're free now." Rikki takes one of Anya's hands carefully in hers. She remembers how Anya feels, she remembers staring up at Steve and clinging to Bucky, the closest thing she ever had to family. She remembers how Bucky picked her up, his back still bleeding from the engineer's whip. He'd told her things were going to be better but she knew looking back that in that moment, Bucky didn't really believe that. But he said the words for her and now she can say them for Anya. "You're free too."

Anya blinks at her, her tongue darting out nervously over her lips. "I don't know what free means," she whispers.

Rikki grins and tears a piece from the inside of the bread out. "It means you can eat how much food you want." She shoves the whole piece into her mouth. Anya stares at her and then the bread and then over at Bucky as if he might report Rikki for what she's doing, but Bucky is still lost in the engine. Rikki swallows the bread and reaches into the basket for the small flask of wine. "Bucky's favorite things are work, the Captain and me. He can be pretty boring sometimes, but he's solid. Like a brother. We had the same owner, as long as I can remember. I was training to help when the Captain freed us." She tears a smaller piece off the bread and chews on it thoughtfully. She knows she's rambling, talking about anything that will come to mind, but she wants Anya to open up. Rikki is years younger than everyone else on board and she wants a friend. "Can't really explain free. It's something you have to get used to. But it's a good thing. Promise."

They fall into silence, picking at the bread, Rikki watches Bucky work. After a bit even the shirt sleeves are gone, the fabric used to wipe grime and sweat off his face then tossed aside. He catches Rikki's eye and grins. "Is there cheese in that basket?"

"Yes, but you have to come and get it. And tell us a story."

He hesitates, carefully thinking over the offer so she holds up the block of cheese and he makes his way over to join their small circle.

-

Steve looks around at his assembled crew, all gathered around the main dining table. He has them all in the communal living space, it's the largest room on the ship and has the advantage of no windows, the only room with no windows. So it doesn't matter that they're still in port, they can't be seen or heard. Anya sits between Carol and Rikki, obviously adopted by the two of them. She's in some of Rikki's clothes, though she's skinnier than Rikki. They hang loose on her limbs and she seems to curl up in the material, trying to hide from view.

Sharon is the last to arrive, only a swish of skirts announcing her presence as she steps in. In her hands she holds a small stack of papers, bound tightly in twine. Her eye catches Steve's and she gives a small nod before passing the packet to Sam for him to read through.

"We need to decide our next move," Steve announces, finally starting the meeting. "We've been presented with some hard choices." He looks at Carol. "I believe you can explain best."

Carol sighs and leans forward, elbows on the table. "McCoy gave us an ultimatum. Two ounces of pure silver, or we lose our connections in New York."

"The alchemist is too full of himself," Jessica snarls but Bucky reaches forward to touch her hand before she can lose herself to her anger. Carol, on Jess' other side, gives a small shrug. One of her hands is under the table and Steve has no doubt it's on Jessica's thigh.

"It doesn't matter what McCoy thinks of himself. He has the connections to leave us stranded outside of one of the world’s best ports," Sharon interrupts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Bucky nod in agreement. "We have to get the silver," Bucky says. They're all thinking it, but obviously grateful that someone else has put the statement out there. If there's no more choice about it, it's easier to develop a plan.

"Where are we gonna find two ounces of pure?" Jessica asks, sounding more like she's playing along with a game then truly considering it, but Jessica plays her cards close and Steve knows she will go with whatever is decided. "Between the companies and the government, it's impossible to get your hands on anything. It's against more laws than we can _count_ to be in possession of more than half an ounce of pure silver without the proper authorization."

Rikki starts fidgeting in her seat. She doesn't speak up often during any group discussions. She might have adjusted to being outside the Pits better than Bucky, but she still didn't share her own opinion often. At least, she doesn't share it where Steve can hear. He knows she's more talkative with Bucky and Sharon.

"Rikki?" He prompts. No one else has an answer for Jessica.

She still looks nervous so Steve looks at Bucky to see if he can get her to open up. But it's Sam who leans in and whispers something to Rikki. Whatever he says makes her still and she gives Steve a nervous smile. "If it's illegal to own, then we need to look for someone who already owns some illegally. They can't report it then, right?"

Bucky sucks in a breath, immediately understanding what she's getting at. "Rikki-"

"You know the layout!" Rikki continues, her excitement growing as she starts to run with her idea. "We know he has some, he used it in all his toys. The security might be tricky, but I'm sure we can think of something, and we have to, right?" She glances at Anya and then at Steve. "It can _work_."

Sharon clears her throat loudly and Rikki sinks back into her chair as if chastised. "As good an idea as this sounds…just fill us in on who we're talking about," Sharon says gently, smiling at Rikki.

"Rikki wants us to steal from Tony Stark," Bucky says. The name comes out thick and heavy on his tongue. He's spoken about Stark before, but only in roundabout terms. The Engineer. The man who inherited him as just another piece of property, who took his arm and gave him one of metal. When Steve first met him, all Bucky knew of engines he had learned from being used by first Howard Stark and then the son and even after five years there are things Bucky still won't talk about.

The one thing Steve knows for sure is that Bucky hates the Starks, he refuses to go into towns even close to Stark factories. Steve isn't sure how Rikki plans on convincing him to go into the Stark mansion itself.

Jessica makes a choked noise and can't seem to decide who she wants to direct her disbelief at. "Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? Son of Howard Stark, who builds most of the ships for all of the American nations and over on the Continent?" Something clicks and she looks at Bucky in shock. "Stark is the Engineer? He owned you? I mean-" She claps her hands over her mouth before she can say anything else.

"There's no polite way to say it," Bucky grimaces. "He owned both of us."

"Please," Anya suddenly speaks up. She stares down at her hands and even with every muscle in her clenched, she shakes like a leaf. "Please don't do all this for me." Rikki scowls at Bucky as if this is somehow his fault and wraps her arms around Anya. Steve can hear Sharon sigh softly and he glances at her. Her eyes meet his and he knows they're thinking the same thing. Bucky has to be convinced.

"The man volunteers to jump off of the ship onto a moving target and won't do this?" Sharon mutters only loud enough for Steve.

"Give me-"

"Rikki's right," Bucky says, staring straight back at Rikki. "I know the layout. I know where he kept some silver before it went into his projects. If that's what we want to do, I can get in and get to it."

"You won't have to go alone," Steve says softly, reaching over to rest his hand on Bucky's. He tries to keep public displays to a minimum, but right now doesn't care what the rest think. "Does anyone have other suggestions?" Steve says louder to the entire crew, but he's met only with a soft chorus of no's. "So where do we start?"

Carol leans forward. "I think I have some ideas."

-

The ink on Bucky's skin goes from neck to thigh and left shoulder down to his right hand. There would be more on his left if the arm wasn't metal. They extend over his back as well, down to the curve of his hips. Steve has seen elderly who have been slaves their entire lives and the tattooing is even more extensive. Steve sits at the edge of their small bed and watches Bucky slowly strip out of his clothes. They're docked at the Perch, the giant floating dry dock for ships to pause and refuel and restock. They'll stay with the Perch for the night and maybe tomorrow and then continue out west. Below them the small, neat borders of the east are starting to disappear, giving way to the large territories where there's only minimal control in the skies, mostly provided by Stark Industries on a for hire basis. The Perch will give them some safety as well as a night completely off.

In the center of Bucky's back is a network of gears, the largest one right between his shoulder blades and more gears radiating off of it, connecting pistons that dissolve into elaborate tangles and swirls over his sides. Steve likes to watch his tattoos as he moves, they seem to move with him. Like an actual machine is at work on his skin.

Steve has touched every single inch of Bucky's tattoos, tried to show Bucky they're beautiful. He knows it will never really work, not when they were given to him in pain. But at least Bucky lets him touch.

"My back happened last, you know," Bucky says without turning around, staring straight ahead at the closet. He sighs softly and runs his fingers through his hair. He gathers up his clothes and dumps them in the hamper to deal with later. "After the Engineer bought me, I must have been fifteen?" He straddles Steve's lap, his arms curling around Steve's shoulders. His hands are rough from work, and Steve loves the feel of them on his skin. He knows they're Bucky's.

He leans in to kiss Bucky's neck. "Will you be ok going back?"

"Have to be." His fingers trace patterns over Steve's skin. Round and round like the movement of the gears. "Anya's good for Rikki, she's never had someone her own age before." He sighs and tips his head back in a clear invitation, so Steve leans in and presses his lips to Bucky's pulse point. "We're a good crew. If anyone can-" Steve scrapes his teeth over Bucky's skin, making his breath stutter. "Steve. Why am I being more responsible than you?"

"I used up my responsibility in the meeting with the crew." He lies back on the bed, pulling Bucky back with him.

"I could kill him," Bucky whispers, his eyes slipping closed so he won't have to look at Steve. "McCoy. I could do it before he can do any damage to us. I will for this ship."

"Bucky." Steve twists them so Bucky's on his back staring up at Steve. The ink swirling up his neck makes his neck look long and narrow, not quite human. He knows from touch that there are scars hidden under the ink. Thin and long, like he had a rope wrapped around his neck. Steve never asks because he doesn't really want to know, he's seen how slaves were chained together while awaiting sale. "You're not killing anyone."

"Well, the option is there."

Steve kisses him, taking his time to encourage Bucky to open up. Bucky's leg curls around Steve's waist, pulling him down until they're pressed together. "I don't want you to kill anyone. Don't care if you know how."

"Steve," he sighs, eyes slipping closed, but he still holds on to Steve tightly. "We should steal the silver and use it to run away for good. Buy some village in the middle of nowhere and just live there until we die."

Steve trails kisses slowly down his neck, tracing the lines of ink with tongue and lips, lingering for a second just to feel Bucky breathe. "You'd get bored." Bucky laughs and the vibrations against Steve's lips makes him gasp and press harder. For a moment he wishes he could leave his own mark on Bucky's skin. Something for him to wear to show that he's Steve's now, but he pushes the thought away. He's not a slave owner. Bucky is his freely. He's told Bucky over and over that Bucky only has to work, he doesn't have to sleep with Steve for his place here. He hopes that after years it's really sunk in, sometimes it's hard to tell what is going on in Bucky's head.

"Probably true. Have to go on adventures just to find new toys to play with." Suddenly he's moving, twisting them back around so Steve is on his back and Bucky is straddling him. His fingers dance over Steve's skin, marked by scars instead of tattoos. He's told Bucky the story of each, even the ones that Bucky was there for. Even the one that Bucky accidentally caused. His fingers ghost over one in particular, drifting away and coming back.

"Tell me."

Bucky licks his lips nervously and rearranges himself to stretch out between Steve's legs so he can press a kiss to that one scar. It's a burn where live wires were jammed into Steve's side. "He is a good man. Underneath the fear," he says softly, resting his head on Steve's stomach. "He didn't hurt us." Steve bites his tongue but touches Bucky's shoulder where despite the tattoos, the scar from a whip is visible. The knotted skin is like an arrow, pointing to Bucky's clockwork arm. He can feel Bucky grin and nip gently at his side. "I deserved that."

"You deserved that?"

"Mhm," Bucky hums. When Steve looks down, he sees that Bucky is looking back at him. "I disobeyed an order publicly. Anyway, his dad did that. Not Tony. He was always more violent." Steve bites his tongue. It hurts how casual this is for him. Steve has always lived above and away from the slave trade. He knew it existed, just like he knew that some people were rich and there was war across the ocean. It never affected him, not in the ghettos of New York. There were no slaves and masters where he grew up, only a bunch of people living too close and trying to survive. Punishment wasn't to prove a point, it was revenge. An eye for an eye. Not a whip for not doing what you were told. Bucky's small reminders that before their lives crashed together they were impossibly different hurts.

For a second Steve can't breathe and he forces himself back to the conversation. Away from the reminders of the life he'd taken Bucky from. "And what can we expect from Tony?" he asks.

"He's possessive of what's his. Almost paranoid. Mostly of his designs, but of his stuff as well. Only one personal bodyguard but he's good. Absolutely loyal to Tony." He sighs softly and presses a kiss to Steve's stomach, smiling against his skin. "Can we talk about this later?"

"What?"

Bucky's lips move to his hip, sucking softly on his skin. "I'm naked in bed with you talking about the man who used me as a living experiment. Let me do this." Steve can't form any argument as Bucky takes his cock in one hand, slowly stroking as he sucks on the tip. It's overwhelming, having Bucky completely focused on him. Steve wants to reach down and touch and return the favor but a more selfish part of him keeps his hands to himself. There will be later. He'll make it up to Bucky tenfold. "Stop thinking," Bucky murmurs. He grins up at Steve, obviously guessing what is going through Steve's mind. "Just- Let me." As if Steve has a choice and even wants to tell him no with his mouth around him and his tongue pressing against his cock right _there_.

Afterwards, when they're both boneless, with Steve holding Bucky loosely, he finally starts thinking about what they've decided on again. "Tomorrow," he mumbles, just loud enough to get Bucky's attention.

"Tomorrow?"

"We have to solidify our plans." He lets his eyes fall closed, thinking of the days ahead. Bucky makes an annoyed whining noise and tucks his head under Steve's chin. "I want to do this right." He rests his hand on Bucky's back, just feeling the steady rise and fall as he breathes. "We're doing this to help Anya and I don't want to lose any more crew members doing it. Can't lose you."

"Me?" Bucky laughs softly.

"Yea you. What in all of space am I supposed to do if my engineer gets himself killed?"

Bucky smiles against Steve's skin, pressing himself closer and curling a hand around his hip. They're so close not even Steve is sure he can separate where he ends and Bucky begins. He doesn't want to move. "I'll come back, I promise." He sucks in a breath. "This is my home too, you know. If I don't keep her floating and-"

"It's not all on you."

Bucky lifts his head to meet his eyes. He's not guarding himself, all the fear and nervousness is there for Steve to see. "Maybe not. But it's not all on you either, Captain."

Steve trails his fingers down Bucky's neck, tracing his spine down along the curve of his back. "You call me that in bed, I'll agree to anything you say."

-

Steve feels something catch his throat and squeeze as the knife slips into Bucky's side. Rationally, he can tell from the way it thrusts in smoothly that its wielder knows exactly where the ribs are and how to avoid them and all he needs is a good twist and he can get the knife stuck. Just like that. Emotionally is entirely different. For a second everything freezes, Bucky is shocked by the knife inside him, Tony Stark with his cool smugness and Steve on his knees. Stark's bodyguard in his brass and iron suit has a solid grip on Steve's shoulders, keeping him from getting up.

"You missed," Bucky finally grits through the obvious pain.

"Missed? What did you think I was aiming for?" Tony wiggles the knife and Bucky goes white as a sheet. It's taking everything he can to stay on his feet and not tear at the wound by falling.

"Lung."

Tony nods in understanding. "You thought I wanted to make sure you died a painful slow death for the way you betrayed me and ran away with this pirate." He yanks the knife out in one harsh move and Bucky finally gives in and sinks to his knees. His shirt, even with the darker colors he prefers, is obviously stained with blood. Steve can see where the fabric sticks to skin. "I still _own_ you." He tears Bucky's shirt open. "Do you see these?!" He jabs a finger at the ink on Bucky's skin. "That is my mark! Mine! I have complete control over you! And if I have to cut off your dick to keep you compliant, then so help me I will. You were always lucky my father never did that to you. I heard Namor does it to every slave who steps foot on his property."

Bucky looks at Steve and Steve can see what he's thinking. He mouths 'no' at him but he knows already it won't work. "I will stay," Bucky says, not looking at Tony. "I'll stay."

Tony looks startled for a second at how easy it's turning out to be. Steve only feels something sink in his gut. "Of course you will," Tony blusters, trying to hide his momentary confusion. "Like I said, you're mine. You belong here."

"But-"

"You're going to give me terms?"

Bucky flinches and stares down at his feet. Steve can see the way he trembles, trying to hide any other sign of weakness. "Captain Rogers is free to leave."

Tony turns and gives Steve a look as if he's seeing him for the first time. He casually wipes Bucky's blood off of the blade. "And if I refuse?"

"You won't have a slave for much longer."

"Bucky!" Steve hisses. He's always had a problem with himself, never thinking he was worth much. Beaten down by being the slave of men like Stark since he was born. "Don't you fucking _dare_."

Bucky smiles sadly and holds up his fingers, stained red. If Bucky doesn't come to terms soon, it won't matter. "I'll tear out my stitches every night," Bucky says, continuing the threat. "I will let it get infected, I will starve and dehydrate. I will be the worst slave you have ever owned. The biggest waste of your money." He looks Tony right in the eye and Steve knows how much strength that takes. "Let Steve go."

Tony purses his lips and looks hard at first Bucky and then Steve. "What did you come back for?" Bucky stares firmly at the ground. "You knew it couldn't get in and out without…you expected to get caught. You- What-" He makes a pained noise in the back of his throat and turns quickly on his heel. "I think I'll need you with me, Rhodey. They're not getting out of here." There's a look of panic in Tony's eyes and Steve feels his gut twist even tighter. If he already knows what they're after, the entire plan could fail.

Rhodes' eye stays on them until he and Tony are out of the room. The door locks behind them and Steve has no doubt there's a guard there as well. Bucky sways weakly and slumps down. It flips something in Steve's brain and he finally gets his limbs moving, scrambling across the room.

"Ow," Bucky mumbles weakly as Steve pulls his hand away from his side. The blood has soaked through his shirt and vest.

"You- Bucky- By everything holy, what is wrong with you?" He tears Bucky's vest, never before so grateful that he prefers cheap clothing so he can spend his money elsewhere. It's not the best, but it's a functional bandage.

"Were we found out?" Bucky grits out, ignoring Steve's own question. It was rhetorical anyway.

"I don't know. They figured out we were the diversion. You were right he'd focus on you, but now we have to get you home." There's a window in the office, it's the only way in or out but they're also three stories up. Bucky wouldn't survive the fall. "We need a pick up."

"Just get out, Steve, you can come back for me."

Bucky smiles as if that's the answer. "Come back to your dead body, you mean," Steve snaps.

"Such a spoil sport." He pushes himself to his feet and stumbles over to Stark's desk. It's a big oak and metal monstrosity, covered with blueprints and notes, scribbled half thoughts. Bucky ignores it all and starts yanking on drawers.

"We can get a deus ex machina save?"

"Your fancy education is showing." He manages a smile and Steve knows the effort is just for him and Steve relents and smiles back.

"You mean the fact I went to school for five years before having to quit so I could work? That kind of fancy education?"

"Yea, like that." He finally reaches a drawer that's locked. Steve pushes him aside before he can hurt himself worse. He grabs a quill from Stark's desk and uses it to jimmy open the lock. The drawer is full of a single contraption. It's a radio, but better built, more complex, than any radio Steve has ever seen.

"How- don't answer-"

"Stark doesn't like to be out of touch," Bucky slumps into Stark's chair and Steve quickly gets to work. The Nomad will come, he'll get Bucky somewhere safe. They'll get out of this alive.

-

Sharon and Carol follow Bucky's sketched out layout of the complex. It's huge. Stark's study and personal bedroom take up the top floor. It's the one underneath they want. Meeting rooms, the kitchen, and the safe. Bucky had never been into the safe, he didn't know how to get it open and whatever it was like before, it would undoubtedly have been improved.

Steve and Bucky enter through the roof, knowing they'll trigger alarms and hopefully keep the focus on them. If that fails, they just have to hope Stark will think they're after what's in his labs in the bottom floors, four floors of labs at least. Sharon hopes that the silver they need isn't in any of those labs. They'd be out of luck. So Sharon and Carol go in through a servants' door, it's two floors below where they want to be, which means getting through a mix of servants and slaves and possibly Stark Industries staff.

Down just one hallway and they already get confused looks. The slaves aren't an issue, they keep their eyes down, most are older, they've lived their entire lives under everyone else, they won't ask questions but they still see. And if someone asks one of them, about the two strangers poking around, it could all be over.

Carol is the one who finds the uniforms. They can't pass for slaves, they don't have the ink on their skin, but they might be able to pass as servants. They have to hope it works. There's no time to even consider differently, they don't know how much time Steve and Bucky will be able to get for them.

Changed now, they blend in a little better but it's hard to truly look the part, to slump and look run down. Sharon's never been so grateful for the Nomad and the home they have there.

They finally reach the right floor, and still no one stops them. Sharon isn't sure if she's relieved or simply more anxious. If Tony Stark wants to have them hung and quartered for breaking in, there's no law to stop him. Carol grabs her hand and steps close. "For Anya," she whispers.

"We can do this," Sharon whispers back. Finding the safe room is harder than they expect. The floor had been rearranged slightly, rooms added and combined. But they find it. The door to the safe is hidden behind a seemingly normal door. No one else even glances twice at it. If they know what's behind it, they don't say anything. Sharon fishes out her lock picks. Jessica is better, even Rikki is better, but circumstances say it has to be her. Carol sets herself up to block Sharon from any passerby's view as much as possible. Luckily, Stark has the safe put away from the other rooms so there's only a few people who even have a reason to be down that hallway.

Hopefully it stays that way.

The minutes are agonizingly long as she fiddles with the locks and she can see Carol fidget as more time passes. Finally there's a click in the door and when Sharon tries the handle it swings inward.

"Barnes had better be right," Carol mumbles as they finally step inside. They move hesitantly at first, keeping an eye out for any further alarm systems. The safe isn't just a safe, it's an entire reinforced room, as big as the room Sharon shares with Sam on the Nomad.

"This seems too easy."

"We still have to get out." Carol has a small torch so they can close the door and keep their presence there hidden a little while longer. She shines it at Sharon first. "We'll deal with that. This is an adventure, Carter. When's the last time we had to break into a place like this?"

"Two months ago when stealing that thing for the Hellfire Club."

Carol makes a face and shifts the torchlight from Sharon to the room itself. "I didn't get to go on that."

"Someone needed to fly us out. Stop whining, let's find his silver." There are shelves on either side, mostly full of gadgets. One of a kind pieces. Stark prototypes that would be worth real solid money outside, but getting most of them out would be impossible.

"Oh, Sharon," Carol sounds in awe of whatever she's found and Sharon makes her way carefully over to see what it is. "It's an astrolabe. I bet it's ten times better than what we have in the Nomad. Imagine being able to fly in the dark without any fear of getting lost? Even on cloudy days?"

"You don't even know what this thing does for sure," Sharon points out.

"I am a pilot, I know an astrolabe when I see one. And it's built by Stark, how can it not be better than what we have?"

Sharon takes Carol's arm and gently tugs her away. "If we do this job, we'll get a new one. And Jessica will shower you with affection for playing such a- Found it." There's a small box, almost hidden behind some metal mask. It's remarkably plain surrounded by so much metal.

"Are you sure?" There's nothing to mark the box as special, that it could possibly hold so much wealth in it.

"Hold the light." Sharon runs her fingers lightly over the sides, feeling for the seams. There's a button and a click and when the top opens, the light reflects off of two small pieces of silver.

"That's more than two ounces," Carol whispers. "That's….almost three? Four?"

"We'll count later." Sharon scoops up the silver and slips it into a pocket hidden in the chest of her shirt. "Let's go." Sharon positions herself by the door and as soon as Carol has the torch off and tucked away, she opens the door.

"Going somewhere, ladies?" The two guards have guns trained on them and all Carol and Sharon can do is put their hands up. "Good call, Mr. Stark will be seeing you now." The guards split up, one grabbing Sharon and the other reaching for Carol. Carol takes a small step backwards at the last minute, sending the guard off balance. It's not a lot but when her foot swings out to catch him in the shin, it's enough. The guard goes stumbling into the door jamb. Sharon takes advantage of the other guard's surprise and jams her elbow into his stomach. When he doubles over for air she catches him in the nose. There's a satisfying crunch of breaking bone.

There's no time to gloat over their attempted captors. Sharon reaches for Carol's hand and drags her down the hallway back the way they came. They have to start walking again when they're back in the more crowded areas of the building. It's agonizing, looking in all directions for someone who might be following. They're back on the first level when alarms go off, echoing off of the metal walls with dull clangs.

Sharon's heart drops into her stomach. They're so close now, they have to get out.

"Blend in or run?" Carol hisses.

"Blend in. They don't seem to know yet." It's the hardest choice she feels like she could possibly make. Her body is buzzing with adrenaline, the need to run and keep running, but there's too many people. If enough of them realize that Carol and Sharon are the reasons the alarms are going off, they'll never get out.

But she feels like she can't breathe again until they're out the door. Stark's complex is on the coast. Somewhere just out of sight is the Nomad, waiting to pick them up.

"Now we can run." Sharon grins at Carol and they start racing along the edge of the building almost right at the edge of the cliff, following a narrow path intended for the landscapers. In some parts of the path she could feel the ground crumbling under her feet. Below them are rocks and if they luckily miss those, there's no chance of being found in the icy waters. They have to keep running, they have to make it to the meeting point. Sharon can feel the pieces of silver in the pocket on her chest. They have to get them back to the ship.

"For Anya!" Carol yells over the pounding of their feet.

Sharon whoops despite the burning in her chest. There are guards out here now and they can still hear the clanging of the alarms. Sneaking in meant they couldn't come armed. But there's a whoosh of air over their heads. Sharon almost trips over her own feet to look up, and there she is. The Nomad is swooping down, twisting in a convoluted path around the complex to avoid Stark's air defense. Sharon grinds to a halt as she watches the Nomad get lower and lower. "She's going over the cliffs!" She gestures for Carol to follow as she adjusts their path, creating a path right for the cliffs and praying she's timing this right.

Behind her, she can hear Carol laugh. It's certainly an adventure and then there's no time to think of anything, just the running leap and the mad grab for the rope ladder. Sharon feels her fingers brush the lowest rung but her momentum carries her too far and she slips past. There's no time to even panic before Carol's hand closes over her wrist. Steve and Anya are inside and haul them both up.

"Who in all hells is at the helm of my ship?" Carol demands as soon as they're properly aboard.

"Jessica. Go, relieve her, get us out of here and on track for home." But she isn't even waiting for Steve's answer before taking off. Anya glances over anxiously but at Steve's nod goes off after her, leaving only Sharon and Steve in the hallway.

"Please tell me you got it."

Sharon is tempted to tease him but there's something so desperate in his eyes, she can't bring herself to do it. So she pulls out the small bag and holds it out. "We got it." She yelps in surprise as Steve suddenly envelops her in a hug, lifting her off her feet.

"I could kiss you." He sounds exhausted and she wonders what he and Bucky went through and it clicks that Sam isn't there.

"I'd rather kiss Sam."

Steve sets her down and his smile falters. "He'd rather kiss you too, I gather. Come on." They almost stumble as the ship takes a sharp turn.

"Go to the bridge, I can go see Sam on my own." She nudges him gently but he doesn't move.

"No, I- they know." His eyes slide away from hers and down the hall towards their small infirmary. Sam's in there and he's working on someone. "Come on." Steve starts walking and this time Sharon falls into step beside him. She knows who she'll see Sam working on, the Captain has his favorite. It's a statement of fact, Sharon's favorite is Sam and Jessica and Carol have each other. And now there's Anya and they're not going to let her joining their crew be shrouded in guilt.

-

Carol and Jessica go together to see McCoy in his tiny shop. Jessica tsks softly at the state the shop is in, piles on the floor, shelves stuffed full of various gizmos and ingredients. Carol realizes that Jessica's never been here before and offers her an arm to step around a small clockwork dog.

"This is where one of the most powerful men in New York lives?" Jessica grimaces and holds her skirts up.

"It's not about looks, my dear," McCoy's voice reverberates from the back of the shop and a moment later his head appears, followed more slowly by the rest of him. "Greetings, Ms. Danvers. And this would be?" He bows slightly towards Jessica.

"You can call me Arachne," Jessica says stiffly. The names of all of the Nomad's crew are easy to find if someone has the right connections, but Jessica prefers to cling to her secrecy.

McCoy arches an eyebrow but doesn't push. "An interesting figure, Arachne, the beautiful weaver who aimed too high."

"You asked for silver," Jessica says, indulging his word play. "You needed people who would aim high." McCoy nods in approval. Carol hopes it means the moment's over and they can return to business. She would like this to be behind her so they can return to the Nomad's own work.

"We are taking you on your word that if we pay, you will leave us be."

"I am good for my word. You handled a potentially messy situation for me, so the least I can do is honor our agreement." He leans in, dark sunken eyes fixed on Carol. "Assuming you do have my silver." Jessica reaches into a pocket hidden in her skirts and pulls out a small bag containing two ounces of carefully weighed out silver. They had found more in Stark's vault, but McCoy doesn't need to know. They had a ship to take care of, even more mouths to feed. McCoy takes the bag with a flourish and after checking the contents, sees them out with a smile.

"I don't like him," Jessica says when they're around the corner.

"None of us do." Carol leans in to kiss her on the cheek. "But he has some of the best connections here. Come on, stop glaring at your dress."

"I think there are metal shavings on it."

"Jess-"

"It's a present from you."

Carol stops and spins her in the middle of the street. "Then I'll buy you a new one. I plan on tearing that one off of you once we're home anyway."

Jessica smirks and slips her arm back through Carol's. "Then I guess we should be returning soon."

-

Sharon sits in the navigator's seat and looks out over the city covered with its layer of grime and soot. Anya pokes at the pilot's console beside her, getting used to the feel of it under her hands. Once they set out again, it's been decided that Carol will train her to be a pilot as well and when she becomes good enough, they'll share the burden.

"Anya." She looks up, startled at the sound of Sharon's voice. "Honestly, you're happy you're here?"

"You've all done so much-"

"No," Sharon interrupts gently. "Are you happy?"

Anya smiles shyly up at her. "Rikki woke me up this morning with coffee and Sam was in the dining room. I've never had fresh bread before."

"Yea, Sam and Bucky make that together, use the engine to cook it so I don't know how safe it is."

Anya shakes her head slightly. "I like it here, Ms. Carter, promise."

Sharon relaxes and gives her a small smile. "Good, since I'm pretty sure you'd have to fight most of the crew to be allowed to leave." She gives Anya's shoulder a quick squeeze and excuses herself. Sam is supposed to be waiting in port for her and Sharon would hate to disappoint, or miss a chance at a proper evening away from the ship. They'll be heading away soon, across the sea, to let any heat from hitting Stark's home blow across the Americas and die out. Once they leave New York, they'll be stuck in a small space for months with little privacy.

-

"Tell me a story," Rikki asks softly. It's only them in the engine room, working in easy companionship to keep the ship floating despite the rest of the crew sometimes seriously undermining their efforts. The current run back and forth across the continent strained already tested engines, but now they finally have some extra pay and the time to do proper repairs. But they've handled malfunction and disrepair, evasive maneuvering and damage, whatever damage they unearth, they'll be able to fix.

"What kind of story?" Bucky asks, satisfying himself that the bolt he's working on is tight enough for now. He looks up at her, perched on top of the engine block. She looks like a bug, wearing big goggles over her eyes and her face blackened with soot.

"I don't know. Something exciting."

He grins, it's easier around her than with the others, no explanations or tricky subjects. They know where they've come from and they know what they can give each other. He shifts his grip on the wrench and pulls himself up so he can sit down beside her. It pulls on his still healing injury and he sits down carefully. Sam will stab him again if he reopens it. "Once upon a time," he starts. Rikki shifts so she's resting her head on his shoulder. "There was a sky captain. She was good and strong and her crew supported her through thick and thin. She had everything she thought she could want. Her own ship that ran well, freedom from any responsibilities on land, a loyal crew.

So she went to her first officer and asked, what am I missing? Her first officer, a good friend from a long time ago, said: maybe you need more work, we have been slow recently. Find work. Fill your purse, then you can buy what you need.

She tried this, tried filling up her purse. And she was one of the best, so it wasn't hard work to fill it up. Her entire crew was wealthy. But she was still missing something. So she went to her pilot and navigator and asked them, what am I missing? They said: your head is so buried in maps, you're missing the sky, sit outside one day when we fly and you'll feel better. So that day, and the next and the one after, she climbed all the way up to the top of her ship, through the hatch all the way at the top and sat outside on the hull, the wind in her hair, and the sky in her eyes.

But still each evening when she came back down, she was missing something."

"You are making this into a silly message," Rikki grumbles, but she doesn't move from her position against Bucky so he knows she's still curious about the ending.

"Every story is a silly message." He squeezes her shoulder and continues on. "Her engineer suggested the right parts, the engine wasn't running quite right so obviously she could feel it in her bones, that's what she was missing. But with all that money in her purse it was easy to make sure they had the right parts, but still something was missing. The sky captain was ready to give up and assume she would always be missing something."

"That's stupid," Rikki interrupts. "Why would you give up like that?"

Bucky smiles and looks down at their feet, swinging idly over the side of the engine. "Because not all people are as stubborn and thick-headed as you, Rikki. May I?" He ruffles her hair just to make her laugh. "So the sky captain was ready to give up. Maybe this was just a part of being human, something would always be missing. But then one day, the ship had some passengers on board, it's easy money after all. And among the passengers was a beautiful young woman, and the sky captain found herself sitting next to her during dinner one day. The woman looked right at the sky captain and said, 'You look sad,' and asked what was wrong.

The sky captain tried to avoid the question at first, but couldn't really, the woman was too stubborn. So finally the sky captain admitted that she felt like something was missing. She had the best crew and the best ship, money was no matter and she had ultimate freedom, but still something was missing.

The woman smiled and said the answer was simple. You're missing love."

Rikki finally pulls back and gives Bucky a hard look. "What are you trying to tell me, Barnes?"

"Well, _Barnes_ , I'm telling you to stop staring at Anya's ass and kiss her." He hops off the engine before she can hit him with his own wrench and smiles up at her scowl. "Our lives our short, most of the other ships in the sky hate us and of those half are armed. Just kiss her."

"You're such a sap, how are we even possibly related?"

"You can blame my sky captain." He laughs as he quickly jumps back when she drops the wrench, aiming for one of his feet. He gathers the tool up and puts it away with the rest of the set. He taps his fingers against the metal of the engine, enjoying the way it rings in the air, filling the space which should be filled with the sound of the engine.

"You think it's that easy?" Rikki asks as she finally comes down.

"Nothing is easy, Rikki. You know that." Bucky watches the pressure gauge, riding close to red but still in safe levels. He thinks of Steve, his sky captain up on his bridge right now, probably checking over inventories. "But sometimes things work well together."

She fidgets with the edge of her shirt. It's an old one of Bucky's and falls too big on her, making her look even smaller than she is. "Two gears, each with their own job, each moving something else, but working together at the same time. Something like that?"

Bucky ruffles her hair again. He likes the reminder that despite their lives, she can be young and childish and he can treat her like a little sister. "Something like that. But don't explain it that way to her, she's going to be a pilot soon and pilots don't care much for engines beyond that they work."

"Stop being such an ass," she grumbles and smacks his stomach.

He groans in exaggerated pain, dropping dramatically to the floor. "I've been betrayed!"

"Maybe if I smack your head hard enough with the wrench things will work better in there." She leans over to ruffle his hair in retaliation so he jumps up to tickle her sides. "You ass." Her goggles have fallen down, barely hanging onto the tip of her nose so one green eye can be seen glaring at him.

"Love you too. Now go talk to your beloved and get your moping out of my engine room."

"One day." She waggles a finger at him, trying to be threatening like the engineer's head housemaid but he shoos her away with a flick of his wrist.

"One day what? You'll have to kill me!" He yells after her and he can hear her laugh echoing off of metal bulkheads back to him. He hauls himself back on top of the engine block and taps his fingers again against the metal. It's good to be back here.

He's still sitting there when Steve comes in. "Do I have to go up or will you come down?"

"Depends." He beckons Steve over. "Captain Steve Rogers. What do you think my answer will be?"

Steve makes his way leisurely to stand below him, his fingers lightly trace the seams of the engine. "I think when I point out that half the crew is not on board, you'll jump down from there and let me take care of you."

"I don't need to be taken care of."

"Need doesn't matter. Come down, James Barnes." His fingers curl loosely around Bucky's ankle and he doesn't need any more encouragement.

He grimaces as the impact of hitting the ground runs through his side. Steve raises an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. "Alright, take care of me." Steve slips an arm around his waist and pulls him away from the engine room. Everyone else wants to go elsewhere, enjoy some privacy, but Bucky couldn't imagine spending money on a room somewhere else when they have their own bed, broken-in in all the right places right here.


End file.
